Page 18 of Glass Wings

I am so sorry for putting you in this position. Sorry feels too small, but it’s the only word I have. I promised you I wouldn’t leave. I promised I’d be better. And here I am, behind bars again, proving your parents right, proving the world right, and breaking the one promise that mattered most. I hate myself for it.

I also keep thinking about the night you broke down in the car after I met your parents for the first time, the way I held you and swore I’d never go anywhere. That promise plays in my head like a broken record, reminding me of every way I failed you. But then I remember your strength at that dinner table, the way you finally stood up to them, the way you’ve carried us both even when I gave you every reason to give up. And I realize … maybe I didn’t break everything after all. You’re still here. You’re still writing me. You’re still fighting.

I get phone privileges once a week. I don’t know if you’ll answer. I don’t know if hearing my voice will hurt more than help. I would give anything just to hear you breathe on the other end. To know you haven’t closed the door completely. Even if you can’t forgive me right now, even if you’re still angry, please don’t shut me out.

I don’t know how much I can ask of you, not when I’ve already asked for more than you should ever have to give. But if you can, hold onto the picture of us outside these walls. Hold onto the house, the baby, the future we talked about in whispers at night when the world was quiet. That dream is what’s keeping me alive in here.

I love you, Harley. More than freedom. More than myself. More than every mistake I’ve made. I love you in a way that makes these walls feel smaller, because I know they can’t hold that love back forever.

Do you think it’s a girl or a boy? We never spoke about how many kids we wanted, if we even wanted kids at all. I would be happy with a little girl or boy with your beautiful eyes. Maybe to pass the time we can start thinking of names? Are you going to find out the gender, or is it going to be a surprise?

Always,

Easton

Ten

EASTON

May 5th

Easton,

I think I want to keep the gender a surprise. I’ve always liked the idea of waiting, of not knowing until the exact moment the baby is born. There’s something beautiful in the anticipation. It’s one of the only things about this that feels like it can still be ours alone, no one else’s decision, no one else’s opinion.

The truth is, I always wanted kids. I just didn’t think I should be a mom. Especially with my eating disorder … the therapist is worried about it, and she keeps reminding me I have to eat and accept the weight I am going to gain. I grew up telling myself I’d probably be too broken, too distracted, too … me. And yet, when I saw that heartbeat on the screen, I made myself a vow. I promised I would never be like my mother. I will never put work or anyone else’s expectations before our child. No matter what happens, they will know they come first. Always.

Kennedy has already started talking about baby shopping. She sends me pictures of strollers and cribs and onesies at all hours of the day. She calls herself Aunt Kennedy like it’s already a fact written in stone. But I’m not ready for any of that yet. I can’t walk into a store and buy clothes for a baby I’m still terrified of losing. It feels too soon to be so excited. Maybe in a few weeks, maybe when I let myself breathe a little easier, but right now … it’s just too much.

There’s something else we need to talk about. Your parents. I haven’t told them yet. Your mom called me yesterday and invited me over for dinner. She’s worried about me, probably about us, but I declined because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this secret with her sitting right in front of me. Part of me feels like it’s not my place to tell her, that you should be the one to decide when and how they know. But another part of me worries we can’t wait too long. They deserve to know they’re going to be grandparents, even if things are complicated between us right now. What do you want me to do?

And as for the phone calls … I can’t. Not yet. The thought of hearing your voice breaks me in a way I can’t handle right now. I’m barely holding myself together as it is, and if I hear you say my name, I know I’ll lose whatever strength I’ve found. So please, don’t take my silence as rejection. It’s survival right now.

Do you know if there’s a new date set yet? For court, or for anything that might move this forward? Rick hasn’t said anything to me, and the waiting is eating me alive. I need to know what’s next, even if it’s weeks away. I need to know how much longer we aren’t going to know the fate of our future.

I’ve been thinking about some names in case it’s a girl.

Nicola — I’ve always loved how strong it sounds, but still soft.

McKenzie — a little more playful, a little lighter.

Emery — simple, modern, and it feels gentle, like it belongs to someone kind.

Clara — old-fashioned, but beautiful. It makes me think of someone graceful, with a quiet strength.

Hadley — I don’t know why, but it makes me smile even if it is a bit close to my name. Maybe because it sounds like happiness.

Isla — delicate but strong, like water. I can almost imagine her whispering it to new friends on her first day of school.

Sage — earthy, calm, steady. A name that feels like peace.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to pick the “right one,” but writing them out makes it feel a little more real. Like I’m already speaking her into existence, giving her a place in the world even before she arrives.

Have you thought of any names?

With love,

Your Little Bird